Blood in the Shadows
by ImmaEatUrYaoi
Summary: America, Canada and England goes to spend a week in a hut in the mountains. Turns out to be a stupid idea in so many ways. Ma-rated for violence in the later story.
1. Chapter 1

**Yay! Horror! Seriously, I made this a while ago and I tried to make it one long story, but... Yeah, so now it is like 15 pages long and I couldn't wait to get a review about this. Aaaaand I might be distracting you from the fact that I'm too lazy to finish any of the other stories I'm working on right away *AHEM***

**Right, this is just first chapter. I made a lot more than this. But I want a review about it, before I proceed. Critiques are well appreciated. Thanks.**

**Warning: Bad language, uuuuuuuuuh! (If you want better warnings, leave a review that says that I should post more)**

"Look! LOOK, dudes! We're here! Hyah hyah hyah!" America jumped like an excited child up and down on the top at the hill as he yelled and laughed in a very obnoxious way. He pointed at a tree hut a few steps ahead. England and Canada were still trying to make it up the steep hill in a steady pace, but their bags were pretty heavy and uncomfortable to carry on, which was the exact opposite of America's small rucksack.

"Calm down, you little twat, this isn't Disney Land!" England frowned and groaned as he took the last, few, painfully slow steps up to beside the jumping and laughing nation. Canada was still struggling ten metres further down the hill. He kind of regretted that he had packed so much. And he also regretted that he hadn't brought Kumajiro. Wandering around with only Britain and America as company was dreadful and he wished that he had brought his beloved polar bear to at least notice him more than the others did. Almost more than half of the trip, they had barely talked to him, they had even asked who he was two times. And most of the time, he would be ten feet behind them and even when he at least tried to call out their names and tell them to wait, they only seemed to go faster. Oh, how he loved being Canada...

That was his last thought before he felt his foot slip in a puddle of mud. He lost his balance, and because of the weight on his back, he began leaning backwards. And he fell.

Both Britain and America made a jump and turned around when they heard a yell behind them. England widened his eyes when he saw that Canada was rolling down the hill with the giant bag on his back.

"M-Matthew!" America shouted and threw off his bag. He began dashing down the hill in a threatening fast tempo, as he tried to catch up with the rolling Canadian.

"America! Don't run so fast, you'll trip!" England shouted. He began to run himself, but in a considerable more controlled speed.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!" America had almost catched up with Canada at this point, so close that he could reach out and grab him. But the sad thing was, that he ironically tripped over a root that was sticking up of the ground. In that split-second where he was hovering in the air, he only had two words in his brain:

Oh. Shit.

Britain growled as he saw the clumsy American trip and fall onto Matthew and got themselves tangled into each other as they kept on rolling down the hill. He began running a bit faster, but he could already see himself that he would never catch up.

Both Matthew and Alfred got dirt, stone, sand, grass and other very nice things in their mouths.

'Oh, how I love being me...' Canada thought, as the weight of his brother mashed him onto the muddy and sometimes stony ground every time America was on top. And it was like they were rolling faster and faster every metre they went, and they both were getting slightly dizzy of all the rolling. Then, suddenly, there was no more ground. The flew into the air, still in a rolling motion. They both screamed as they realized how far down they were about to fall. Underneath them was nothing but air, until twenty metres below, were there was a river, that they had passed an hour ago. England, that were only halfway down the giant and steep hill couldn't help but snicker as he heard America's scream cut through the air. The two nations fell into the water, still tangled tight together. They started and kicked, trying to get free. Finally, Alfred felt his limbs get out of Matthew and the bag and soon, he found himself swimming on the surface. Though, after a few seconds, he dove down after taking a deep breath and swam as fast as he could manage.

Canada tried desperately to get the clasps of the straps on his bag to open, but he was dizzy from rolling around and sinking down to the bottom of a river didn't exactly help him very much, as water filled his eyes, nose and mouth. Suddenly, he felt something around his ankle. First it was slightly brushing his leg, like a water plant.

'Have I already sunk that deep...?' He thought. But the possibility of whatever that was touching his ankle being a water plant completely vanished, when it grabbed his ankle in a tight grip. He let out a yelp in surprise, which of course were only bubbles in the river water. Because of that, he almost ran completely out of air, and the pain scratched his lungs and throat, as he felt himself being dragged down into the deep. He tried to kick his foot free, but whatever it was, it was strong and it swam faster and faster. Canada could feel his sight darkening. For every inch he got dragged, the weaker his struggling became. At last, a few bubbles of air left his mouth and he slowly closed his eyes, as he felt his mouth, throat and even his lungs being invaded by the water, that surrounded him. He fainted.

"Matthew! MATTHEW!" Canada felt someone slapping his face, hard and merciless. He moaned, but just as he did, pain spread itself in his chest and throat, and he coughed, and felt water spraying out of his mouth and cover his lips and chin. He sat up in a jerk and coughed more. It almost felt like he was throwing up, as he spat and coughed up the water. It finally stopped and the water was gone. He opened his tear-filled eyes and his sight got greeted by... faces? He blinked as he tried to recognize them. But his sight was all blurry. He realized that he was missing his glasses.

"Dude, you scared me shitless! Don't you know how to swim?" America's voice said. Canada squinted his eyes together as he tried to see which ones of the two blurry heads were Alfred and which one was Arthur. He felt a pair of glasses get pressed into his hand. He gratefully put them on and blinked. And frowned. There was a crack in the left one.

"America, you shouldn't talk too much! I had to jump into the water myself to get you, you bloody git!" a certain nation said. Canada noticed how all of them, were dripping of water.

"Ow~..." America whined as England placed a fist on his shoulder. Canada swallowed the air like food. He wanted to enjoy this as much as possible after being dragged down into the river by...

Canada widened his eyes as he flinched. He looked around in sudden alertness, gazing after... something. He looked at his ankle. Nothing. But... a red mark. It was throbbing painfully and it seemed like it would get blue, sooner or later. It was the same ankle that got grabbed by that... thing. Britain noticed Canada's face.

"Matthew... What's wrong?" He asked, tilting his head a bit. Canada almost jumped in surprise. He had been lost in thoughts.

"Umh... Th-there was..." He said. England looked questioningly at the shocked Canadian. What was he talking about?

"... Didn't you guys see... what grabbed my ankle...?" Canada said. Alfred and Arthur looked startled at Canada, then on each other as a silent question. When they both raised a brow, they looked at Canada again.

"What do you mean?" Britain said.

"L-look, there..." Canada pointed at his said ankle. The two other nations looked at it. Indeed, there was a mark, but...

"Dude... You probably just got that by rolling down the hill, dontcha think?" America said and gently poked the mark. He imminently pulled his hand back, when Canada winced slightly.

"B-b-but... I..." He started. He stared at the mark. It reached all the way around his ankle, it could not have appeared when he fell down the hill. And he _had _felt that... thing... grab it, and he even got pulled down. How could they think it was anything else?

"I was dragged down by something! It grabbed my ankle and swam downwards! Didn't you notice that I had sunk pretty deep very fast?"He asked, looking with some kind of mix between hope and shock. There was silent for a couple of moments. Then Britain slowly shook his head.

"Canada, bro, I'm sure you just imagined that. You _did _ faint, after all..." America said. He patted his brother on the arm before he stood up. "Oh, yeah, your bag sunk, sorry, but we couldn't get it." He added. Canada groaned. Both of the fact that the two others didn't believe him, and about his bag being fish food forever. He had packed a million and very important things in that bag. Now what?

"We should get going. It's going to be late soon, so if we start walking now, we can reach the hut just in time to unpack our bags and make some dinner..." England said. He stood up and reached a hand out for Canada to take. Canada just frowned slightly and got up by himself, clearly upset. Britain just sighed and began walking towards the hill again, closely followed by America. The Canadian walked slowly, causing himself to fall behind the two others by a certain distance. He was really upset and kinda angry, though he kept it within himself (partly.). Why didn't they wanna believe him? First, he gets dragged on a mountain walk to spend a week in a tree hut in nowhere. Then, on the way to that hut, they even forget about him, hell, they were ignoring him. And finally, he almost drowns by getting dragged down by something in a river and they won't even try to believe. Canada stared on the ground, not even glancing up to the two others.

'They're probably not even waiting for me...' he thought and crossed his arms.

"Matthew! Hurry up! I'm sick of waiting for you!" America's voice reached his ears and he looked up to see the western man wave a few minutes ahead. Canada slowed down a little, slightly surprised that America had the time to wait for him for once. Then, he tried to hold back a smile, as he began walking faster up towards Alfred and Arthur. He knew that his next thought was too hasty, but it kind of comforted him how Alfred could sometimes be a nice brother.

**Right, too short for a review, I know. But I hope I could give a small taste of what that has to come.**

**Anyway, review, of course. In this story, you can't request anything, cause... well, I already mad 15 pages, as I said. I just want a review, thanks.**

**And for all those who are waiting for other things (I know you are): Sorry, I'll try writing as fast as possible! School-excuses, inspirational-excuses and emotional-excuses, bla bla bla.**

**Right, I bid you farewell! *wave***

**(Oh, yeah, btw, I made a forum. Hetalia-RP'ing. Not because we have alot already, ha ha ha... Right, I just wanted to mention it. Chek it out if you want to: ** forum/Hetalia-ROLEPLAY/145819/ **)**


	2. Chapter 2

**And this is chapter two. The first chapter is way too short to be reviewed properly, so I'll put out this as well, if you lacked stuff to read. I hope you like it!**

**Warning: Ma-rated violence! ah meh guwd, su scerri! (No, I'm serious. I'm kind of twisted, so the violence part isn't for fun.) But, no real supernatural horror. Not yet. Ho ho.**

**Enjoy.**

"... But I seriously don't get why we have to have a bloody camp fire outside the hut, when it's much more comfortable to sit inside the hut and have a cup of tea or cocoa or whatever instead of bloody sitting out here, grilling some stupid candy. It's even really, really dark! And we're about to run out of fire wood anyway, why waste it on a bloody camp fire instead of making sure we get great comfort in the hut?" Britain growled as he pulled in his stick. The marshmallow had caught fire and he waved the stick in the air in an attempt to put it out.

"Because camp fires are awesome! Don't you think this is way more awesome than just sitting indoors and read a book?" America said. He caught his perfectly roasted marshmallow between two biscuits and some chocolate and shoved it into his mouth. He moved his head into Canada's direction and repeated his question in a more muffled version, causing crumbs to fly in all directions possible. Canada just nodded slightly and kept on staring into the fire. What happened in the river still bothered him.

Britain had already noticed how weird Canada had behaved the last few hours. He was about to ask what the bloody deal was, when America swallowed his snack and began almost yelling his next sentence.

"All right, guys! Time for some spooky camp fire stories!" He laughed. "Anyone wanna start?" He looked from Britain to Canada and from Canada to Britain. When no one said anything, he assumed that he would just start himself.

"Okay, I'll start, then! No one will ever beat a story as good and awesome and scary as mine!" He took a deep breath before making his voice as deep as possible and then he started the story.

_Once upon a time, three dudes went camping in the mountains. God knows why the hell they did that, probably because their awesome friend suggested it and they all went like "yeah, sure, omg you're so smart!" Anyway, these three dudes had a camp fire too, when it got dark, of course. They also roasted marshmallows and ate them with biscuits and chocolate. And they had a story too, it was like, really spooky stories as well! Suddenly, their camp fire totally just went out and they were all like "WTF!" and they piss their pants like pussies, well, not that guy who had suggested to go on camping in the first place, he was too cool. Suddenly, the light came back, but one of the dudes were so totally gone, man! And the two dudes that were still there, they were all like "Oh, shit, where'd he go?" and they were stupid enough to go looking for him in the woods that surrounded them. Did I say that they were camping in a forest? No? Well, now I did, so shuttup, Britain. Anyway, they walked around for only ten frigging minutes, when something suddenly grabbed the ankle of that other guy, not the one who had suggested this in the first place, but the other one, and he got dragged like, dramaticly away by something none of them saw. That means that the last dude was alone and he had no idea what the heck was going on, but he was smart enough to think "This ain't right!" and he started running towards his campfire, like "AAAAARGH, MOMMY!" and that was the only and last mistake he did: panicking. As he panicked and shit himself and ran towards this campfire (like, omg, dude, how will that camp fire protect you from evil?) he noticed that a shadow was totally closing in on him and he ran faster, still shitting himself, and suddenly that shadow jumped like "Weeeeeeeeeeee~!" and landed on top of him. Then he finally saw what it was! There was no mistaking those fangs, those eyes and that fur! It was a werewolf, a really big and scary one, and it bit his neck and his blood was splattering all over and he was all like "Gargle, omg fuck, shit, i'm gonna dieeee!" and that's actually what he did, he died. And they all lived happily ever after! THE END!_

"..."

"..."

"So, aren't you scared?" America looked from one to another, hoping to see a bit fright in their eyes of how awesome his story was. But the only thing he saw was some kind of disappointment.

"How the bloody sandal king are we supposed to get scared of that? It was like a really bad and disorientated parody of "Twilight"!" Britain said, still waving around his burning marshmallow. Canada just lifted his stare back into the fire again without saying a word.

"Aw c'mon, that was like, the best story someone have ever come up with in two seconds!"

"Improvising clearly isn't your thing, Alfred, just admit it..." England finally put out his burning candy, and looked in disgust at the melted, black substance, that were still cooking, bulging with bubbles, that slowly grew larger and burst. America pouted at England's criticism. He simply couldn't accept it when someone else said that about things he thought was awesome!

"Well, I'll bet you can't even do it better!" He yelled while pointing at the Englishman with a challenging index finger.

"You would never believe unless I actually do." was the simple answer, while Britain put on another marshmallow, hoping that it wouldn't burn this time.

"Exactly! You tell a story that's better than mine, right now, pure improvisation! I dare you!" America crossed his arms as he waited for England to begin the story. Arthur just looked at the Western country with a halfhearted glare, but then he sighed and cleared his throat. With a deep and threatening voice, that seemed to vibrate through the chilly night air, he slowly started talking. The flames from the fire shone from down under his face, giving him a darkened look in his green eyes, that stared into the campfire, glaring at the dancing flares.

_Many have told legends about this... creature... Some say it is a monster, bent on destruction and evil, that is only there to kill and to devour your body and soul. Others say it is a punishment sent from the gods, a punishment to humans for being greedy and generally stupid. Others admire it and calls it beautiful and mysterious, and they believe it is a god, that came to change this world into a better place. There is some truth in all of these claims, but none of them are completely real. What this creature is, nobody knows completely, but they know, that it is not normal._

_It is a creature, that no one for sure knows where lives. There is probably more than one. But it seems that it likes to wander about in the lonely, empty mountains and forests, away from population. If someone is foolish enough to dare disturb it in it's loneliness, they will be punished, and they will never exist again. And that is what they did, those three blokes. They had no idea what awaited them at the end of the day, when the night fell and the cold came along. As soon as the sun was gone, the forest became silent, no animals, no trees, no wind, not a single sound was to be heard in the forest. Only the crackling fireplace at the camp where the next three sacrifices was sitting, slowly getting conscious about the tension in the air. It was summer, but it was unusually cold in that night at that place. The three of them sat around the restless fire, gazing into the warmth. None of them said a word, and they had sat like that in hours. They sensed that they couldn't sleep, that if they did, they would never wake up again. It wasn't something they had said out loud, they just all sensed the same tension. There was unbelievable quiet._

_Suddenly, they sound of a twig that snapped echoed through the forest. It had emerged from far away, but they heard it, because of the unnatural silence, that hung over this forest. As soon as the sound reached their ears, a sudden and weirdly cold gust blew up and put out their weak campfire. The three guys kept quiet. It was coming, they didn't know what, but they knew it was heading towards them. And if it reached them, they would be erased from existence. They had no options but to wait. It was like the tension held them down, kept them from even breathing. They sat there, listening to the twigs that snapped, the leaves that crackled, the threatening atmosphere. After what could have been hours, they heard more and more. The most frightening was the breath. They heard that breath, an ancient and bloodthirsty breath, and it wasn't anything human, nor animal. It was surrealistic, twisted, turned, and it was only a few steps away from reaching their camp. They sweated, but the sweat was cold, they were scared, but their heart barely beated, they sat there, close to the fire, hoping it had not noticed them, but it knew they were there and they sensed it too. And they saw it, straight in the eye. The red, wild, twisted eye, hungry after blood and flesh, hungry after screams and fright, it stared back at them from the shadows, as it slowly stepped closer and closer to the three of them. They were paralyzed, completely frozen. The growling was deep and rumbling, it emerged from this creature, deep down from it's throat. It's empty stomach was knotted together, it was so hungry that the three men could feel it. The only light was from the almost output fireplace, as the moon wasn't up that night. The weak light shone upon the face of this creature, and the closer it came, the more all of them could see of it. The fur, was black, silky and blended into the surrounding dark, pure black, the snout was long and pointy, it smelled up the fear of the surrounding area, the pointy ears was laid back in aggression, but the most eye-catching, was the fangs, the sharp fangs, that didn't look like teeth, but like shattered glass, sharp and gleaming white, and the claws that was sitting on it's giant paws, like black, shiny knifes, digging deep valleys on the ground as it walked. _

_The tension exploded. _

_They screamed._

_They ran, but they only came a few steps. The one who came the longest away never even felt the pain. But the two others did. The first one tripped and fell, and few seconds after, he felt the weight of the creature land on top of him, not only feeling but also hearing his inner organs and his bones snap and crack of the sudden weight. He could barely scream, as he also felt the claws dig into his back and rip out his inside, his clothes were colored red, deep red, and soon his sight was red as well. With a single bite, the creature removed every piece of life left in this person, and it went onto the next one, the one who had heart enough to stop up and look after his friend, but who also payed the price for his unselfishness by dying a painful death as well. The fangs cut down his left arm and with a jerk with the head, it was separated from it's body by the creature. The man had barely time to inhale for a scream, when he felt claws stab his throat, again and again, stab his chest and stab his belly, he fell onto his back and was forced to watch as the creature bit up his soft stomach and rip out everything that were attached to his inside. His guts were pulled out, but he couldn't scream, his throat was stabbed into meat, he soon turned his eyes inside out. The last one were lucky to die from the first blow, as the creature jabbed his head off with one of its claws, sending the head flying into the distance. The headless body tripped and fell, lifeless onto the muddy ground, mixing the dirt with blood. The creature indeed was graceful, it didn't even have a single drop of dirt or blood in it's marvelously silky and shiny black fur, it's thirst and hunger were satisfied, and it's eyes were calm and collected again, as it crushed the last bones and swallowed them, before wandering into the forest again, taking the night, the dark and the cold with it._

It was all silent around the fireplace. America had even burned his marshmallow as he had listened carefully to Britain's story. Canada said nothing. He barely felt anything. He just stared at the fire with wide eyes, not even roasting his marshmallow. Britain sighed and scratched the back of his head.

"No superhero-comments, Alfred? That's not like you!" He said. America snapped out of his trance and began laughing, but it was a quite awkward and nervous laugh.

"Hah, hah, hah, what're ya talking 'bout, that was the crappiest story I've ever heard, hah... hah hah...!" He waved his stick in the air to put out the fire on his marshmallow as he kept on laughing awkwardly, making sure he didn't look into England's eyes. England snorted.

"Sure, I'll just leave improvised ghost stories told at a bloody campfire to you, since you clearly are professional in that, like you are at all the other stuff you do!" England said and murmured a 'bloody wanker...' to add something. There was quiet again, everyone just looked into the fire, sometimes roasted a marshmallow, sometimes yawning. It was getting pretty late, and it was also very dark. The only light was the campfire and the half moon.

They all noticed that the campfire was getting weaker and needed more wood. England was about to mention it, when America stood up.

"I'll go get some wood from the forest..." He mumbled. He quickly went away to walk down the hill to a nearby forest after pulling out a flashlight from his rucksack.

'Finally he pulls out something else than calories of that bag...' England thought and continued trying to get his marshmallow to let go of his stick. Canada still hadn't roasted a single marshmallow. It had nothing to do with his tastes, though he would much rather had enjoyed some pancakes with maple syrup on top. It was only and simply because of what happened earlier today. After that, he had been quiet and hadn't said a word, not even a sound. He had barely moved after sitting down on the ground at the campfire. He suddenly looked up, when he noticed England's eyes watching him. Their eyes met and stayed. The silence tensed a bit. Like a silent question.

"What is it?" Canada asked quietly. England didn't say anything, he just kept on staring at Canada. Matthew was getting a little annoyed and sat up.

"Nothing's wrong, Arthur. Don't even worry about it." He said with the most stubborn tone he dared. England closed his eyes and smiled.

"Well, I know that you love roasted marshmallows, so I was just wondering why you haven't eaten a single one yet." He pointed at the still "raw" marshmallow at the end of Canada's stick.

"I'm just not in the "Marshmallow"-mood today. I'd rather have some sleep." Canada said and added a yawn.

"Well, you can just go inside the hut. I'll just be waiting out here for that git to come back." England said and pointed demonstratively at the tree hut some meters behind Canada. Canada nodded slightly, before standing up and began walking towards his his destination. He were actually tired, he had been walking all day, he had even almost died, and such stuff were always tiring. As soon as he got indoors, he walked around a bit to remember where the bedroom was. When he finally found it, he didn't even bother to take off his clothes to change into a pajamas, he just pulled off his socks and dove into the bed, well knowing that he would get lectured by England for not putting on the sheets. As soon as he had found a comfortable lying position, he felt how exhausted he actually was and quickly fell asleep.

"Wake up, you twat, wake up!"

Canada was being shaken roughly as he tried to leave the fluffy, comfortable dreamland.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, it can't be that hard!" He recognized the angry voice as Britain and he tried to make his eyelids lift themselves so that he could look, but his brain was still surrounded by the candyfloss-like consistence of sleep.

"Mmmh, what is it, Arthur..." He mumbled and frowned while doing so.

"America still hasn't come back, and I'll just have you to know that I'll go look for the bastard to make sure he hasn't tripped somewhere and lies with a broken leg in a pit."

"Ah... okay... I'll try stay awake..."

"You don't need to, but it's much appreciated. I'll go now." England stood up and went towards the door. Before closing it, he turned around to face Matthew.

"I'll see you later. If I'm not back within three hours, then I'm either lost or stuck somewhere." He said. Canada finally got his eyes forced up and looked at Britain.

"Sure, I'll go look for you if so." He answered and yawned. England nodded and closed the door. Canada could hear Arthur as he walked to the front door, opened it and closed it, and his footsteps as he walked towards the forest America had headed. The footsteps became distant and after a few minutes, they were gone. Canada reached into his sweater's pocket and pulled out his cell phone. 10:45 pm. It wasn't even that late yet. He hadn't slept that long, only half an hour. But he was still really tired. They had been walking from six o' clock, after all. He looked out of the window and confirmed that the sky was almost black already. He put his phone back into his sweater, and tried to sleep again. But after fifteen minutes of halfhearted attempts, he gave up and got out of the bed instead. He wandered out into the small kitchen and looked through the things in the fridge and the closets. Minutes later, he sat on the table, munching on a pack of cookies and nibbling to a soda. He looked at his cell phone again. 11:02 am. He yawned. He didn't like to stay up that late. Canada had no idea how to kill time when he once would be done chowing on nut creme-filled chocolate chip cookies. He was too tired to do anything else than eat snacks and sleep. And he still hadn't come up with an idea after carefully emptying the soda-can. After a quick look on the clock, he decided to go to bed again and try sleeping, otherwise, he sensed that it was going to be a long wait. There would still be more than two hours left before he would get concerned enough to go looking for Britain and America. He turned and turned, around in the bed, trying to find a position comfortable enough to get his sleepy brain to relax again, and finally, his eyelids went heavy and closed. Slowly, his consciousness slipped away and he fell into sleep again.

**All right, maybe this was a better view into what _could_ happen in the future. ^J^**

**I hope you liked it, please, leave a review about how I did. Constructive critiques are well-appreciated.**

**Right, I'm out.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is also pretty short, sorry :P**

**I just want to build up the tension a bit. It's a writing style.**

**ANYWAY.**

**Warning: Very detailed violence**

**(PS: I FINALLY FOUND OUT HOW TO DO THIS LINEBREAKERTHINY XD)**

* * *

Canada woke up with a jerk. He sat there, thinking a little, with his breath heaving in and out. He calmed down and realized that it had just been a nightmare. A nightmare. Night. He looked at the window. It was still dark. He fumbled around with his hand until he finally got his phone out. He activated the screen and squinted his eyes together when the painfully bright light appeared and revealed the numbers. 02:17 am. Arthur should have been here. Canada got out of bed and put his socks on. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. He was pretty impressed by himself, sleeping with glasses on and everything. Though they still had that crack in them. He went out to the kitchen to look outside. The fireplace was still glowing. Didn't England put it out? Canada frowned and went outside in bare socks. The chilly air poked him in the face, and he was happy that he practically always was dressed in sweaters and other baggy clothing styles. When he reached the glowing, black rests of wooden logs, he realized that in spite of how high the hill they had camped on was, it was pretty wind still. He thought of Britain's ghost story, but shook it off his thoughts. England had improvised that story. He bowed down to feel the warmth of the fireplace, but the glows were pretty pathetic and he could get more warmth by laying his hands on a TV-screen. He stood there for a few moments, and he thought he might as well go look for Britain and America. He was about to go inside, when a sound of a twig that snapped made him freeze. He didn't even breathe. He slowly turned into the direction where he thought the sound came from. Nothing. He stayed still, his heart in his throat, listening to other sounds. There wasn't any light in that moment, because the clouds covered for the moon. He listened closely, standing there in the dark. There was nothing. Not even a wind. The air was tensed. Quiet. He could only hear his heart, beating like crazy in his throat. Another twig snapped, as well as some leaves crackled, like a slow step in the woods. Canada turned towards the sound source, and stared. And his eyes widened. In the shadows, a slight movement caught his eyes. He followed the slight movement. Whatever it was, he was sure it wasn't leaves or a branch waving in the air, it was moving around between the slight vegetation. Lurking around. It had probably seen him. He was standing in the middle of the space between the fireplace and the hut, so he was on open land. And unprotected. Suddenly, the clouds drew back, allowing moon light to fall across the landscape. It was shining from the back of Canada's view to were he was looking, so it would almost work like a flashlight for him. Though he didn't know if he wanted to see what was lurking in the bushes...

Two big, black, shiny eyes stared back at him. The caramel colored fur was spotted with white. The long skinny legs tripped around carefully in the leaves. The short tail wiggled slightly sometimes. The soft-looking, waved ears caused it to look alert.

'Oh, dear maple leaf... just a deer...' Canada thought. He calmed down and felt a little ashamed of being so scared of a deer. Deers were one of the most harmless animals this time of the year. He put his hands in his pockets and observed the peaceful animal nibbling to random plants. It sometimes raised it's head to keep an eye on him, but otherwise it didn't worry about him too much. As he looked at the deer, he came to think of Britain and America again. They didn't seem to be back. He probably had to go look for them sooner or later. He began walking over to the hut to get his shoes, when the moon was hidden away by the dark clouds. The sudden change of brightness made Canada stop up for a moment to let his eyes get used to the dark. When he heard a weird sound. A snap and a gargle. A weird unnatural gargle. Like a rattle. Like when a liquid fills a throat. Canada froze and slowly turned his head towards the sound. Towards where he last saw the deer. It was too dark to see anything, but the moon came again. Like a spotlight, it made the surroundings brighter. Canada stared. A weird taste filled his mouth. Sweat. Heartbeat. The deer. It was gargling, it's dark brown eyes showed white. It's mouth were wide open. Red, thick liquid spilled out of it, both of the mouth and the nostrils and the eyes. The liquid painted the caramel brown fur to a dark red. In the middle of the neck. Fangs dug down. From the shadows. Two red eyes stared right into Canada's. A deep, rumbling sound emerged from behind the fangs as they dug deeper into the deer throat. More snaps and more gargling. Suddenly, the head of the deer flew upwards, it got ripped away from the body by the fangs. Blood squirted out like a fountain, strings of throat hung from the head, a whiter string indicating the spine snapped like an elastic. The body was painted red by it's own blood. It sunk together, twitching a bit. Canada was frozen into place. Suddenly the fear filled him up, mercilessly grabbing him in an iron grip. And a whimper escaped his throat. The only thing that filled his mind was a gray, foggy substance of fear and the lone word.

Run.

His legs moved by themselves, they sprinted faster than he ever had before, he was fleeing, fearing that the shadow would catch up, he didn't even look back, he just ran, down the hill, forgetting everything about the might of gravity, that he would trip if he ran too fast, he just fled, nothing else meant anything to him, only that he could get away. A shadow fell over him, blocked the moonlight. He dared to look up, and the fear bloomed harsher, as he saw a big, black bird flying threateningly close, the wings were spread, it was blocking the moonlight completely, it was gigantic, the claws were reaching out for him. He fell. The air was beaten out of him as he landed on the ground on his belly. Seconds later, he felt the wind of the bird passing by, just above his head. It landed only a few meters away from him. He quickly got up, too quickly. He stumbled backwards and fell onto his back. His eyes widened more when the bird before him began to shake and wince together. His voice wanted to scream, but it hurt, it hurt too much, his heart was galloping up in his throat, the fear was strangling him. The bird jerked and winced, making weird, cracking sound, like bones that break. The wings broke into weird positions, the feathers fell and attached again, the legs grew out from the body, stretching the skin painfully much, revealing pink meat. No blood came, there was only pink meat. Canada had no idea what was in front of him, only that it wanted to kill him. He saw the mess of feathers and claws, spotted with pink meat, until the spots disappeared, the wounds were closing automaticly. The feather no longer looked like feathers, they looked like fur, black, silky fur. The scaly legs of the bird had become muscular, furry legs of a mammal, a wolf, a giant wolf. The claws looked like daggers, red from the deer blood. An eye stared at Canada, a red eye mirrored the frightened nation. It wanted his blood. His screams. His soul. Canada got up. He ran again. He heard the stomping behind him. He knew it would get him. But he ran. Finally. A high-pitched tone scratched through his throat. He screamed. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to be a nightmare. But he could feel that it wasn't. His feet felt the mud between the toes as he sprinted further down, sideways down the hill, socks were the only thing on his feet. The wind that pinched his eyes caused tears to squeeze through. The fear. It was pure fear. He could feel it's breath, heaving onto his neck. It was a lot bigger than him, three meters tall. It could kill him. It wanted to kill him. He kept on running. And suddenly, there wasn't more ground. He fell. His body felt like it was dragged through the earth. Until he landed on his back. He sat up, trying to see where it was, which way he should run. But there was nowhere to run. Around him was walls of earth, close to him. He could only just lye down. He heard a growl from above his head. He looked up and those eyes stared at him. The next he saw was fangs, gleaming, bright, white fangs, snapped at him. There was still blood on them, they bit the air right in front of his face. It wanted to kill him. But it couldn't reach him. The bottom of the pit was too far down. Canada realized that he was kind of safe. The fear that had completely controlled him before released him a bit, he was still scared but not as terrified as before. The thing that tried to kill him tried to reach him by sticking down it's paws, but it couldn't reach him. The pit he had fallen into was too deep, no matter how big it was, no matter how much it stretched it's leg, it couldn't reach. The thing had already realized, and it was enraged. It roared and howled, as it tried to jack it's head down through the opening of the pit, but it was too big to get all the way down. The opening was like a tunnel down to Canada's position. Canada began to breathe more regularly again, as he tried to figure out what it was, that thing. It was big, very big. It was some kind of giant wolf, but it was bigger than any wolf he had seen so far. It was even bigger than any polar bear he had seen. And this wolf, it wasn't normal. He was sure he had been almost grabbed by a bird before. And then it had transformed into a wolf. It sounded to surrealistic. But there it was, red eyes staring at him, with foam on it's mouth, growling and roaring, trying to get him. He pressed himself farther down into the pit. He just watched with a beating heart, waiting for the wolf to give up. After ten minutes, it seemed like it had cooled down, but the eyes were still just as wild. They radiated hate and hunger for Canada. The nation winced and tears burned into his eyes. Why? Why the hell was this happening? What was even happening? What was that wolf and what did it want? Why did it look like he had imagined the monster from Britain's ghost story? Was this really just a far too realistic nightmare? The wolf pulled back it's head and stared down at him. There was quiet for some moments. Then it gave off a growl and and showed it's fangs. It disappeared from visibility at Canada's point of view. Canada sat there, still shocked, still scared. Then, tears began to flow down his cheeks. This was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to him. He cried silently and felt more pathetic than ever before. He just wished that someone would come. He wished that it was a dream, a nightmare, he wished so badly that it wasn't real. But it was real. And he couldn't understand. Why? He sobbed quietly, digging his eyes into his sweater. What will happen to him now? What if no one ever finds him? Will he be missed? He sobbed, his throat hurt as the air forced through in small jerks. He just wished it wasn't real.

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**Next chapter! XD Already uploaded it!**

**(You didn't think I was THAT evil, did you?)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hurry, read! WTF ARE YOU WAITING FOR? WHY ARE YOU READING THIS?**

**XD**

**Sorry.**

***Sweat***

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He had been lying there for a little while now. He looked up at the opening. Still dark. He wondered what the clock was. He couldn't find out, because he had dropped his phone, at least he couldn't find it in his sweater.

'I must have dropped it when it was chasing me...' he thought.

He had given up crying. He had cried so much that no more tears wanted to come out. Though a tearless sob emerged from him now and then. His whole body hurt. His feet hurt the most and they were cold, as he hadn't taken his shoes on when he had the chance. He had even been forced to pull out a thorn out from his heel. It had hurt, but he got it out. Now a deep, tunnel-formed wound throbbed in his heel.

He looked up at the opening again. He wondered if it was still there, that monster. Or whatever it was. England probably would know what it was. He knew a lot about magical and paranormal stuff. Canada sighed and sobbed a again. He wished someone would find him. He didn't care who. Just someone. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. In spite how scared he actually was, his body was exhausted and tired. But it was too cold to sleep in that pit. And he was lying on a very stony and hard ground. He had tried to find a sitting position so that he could rest better, but so far he hadn't found one.

"Matthew!"

Canada looked up, completely startled by the voice from nowhere saying his name.

"... W-who...?" He whispered. He squinted his eyes together and looked at a silhouette of a person looking down at him in the pit.

"Matthew, are you okay?! How did you fall down here?"

"... America...! Alfred!" Canada quickly stood up as soon as he recognized the voice.

"Matthew, answer me, are you okay?!" America said.

"I-I'm... I'm so glad you found me! I'm so glad you're here! Y-you have no idea what happened! You have no idea!" Canada tip-toed and reached up towards the opening, towards his brother.

"Here, take my hand, Matt! I'll get you up!" America reached down and Canada grabbed it with both arms. They tugged and pulled, slowly but still making process. Finally, after half an hour, Canada finally grabbed the edge of the opening and managed to pull himself up. For some moments, they just sat there on the ground, trying to catch their breath.

"Matthew, are you all right? What happened-" America got cut off by Canada throwing himself against him. He hugged him tightly, and sobbed and laughed on the same time.

"I-I-I-I'm so happy you came, I'm so happy you came! I have never been so scared! I just wished it had been a dream, Oh my god, I'm so happy, you have no idea!" Canada felt tears finally fall from his dried out eyes as he hugged his brother tighter.

"It's good now Matthew, but what happened? Why were you in that hole?" America asked.

"You'll never believe what happened, a big, black thing chased me and almost killed me, and then I ran and I accidentally fell into that pit, and then it couldn't get up after it was gone and I've been sitting there since! I'm so glad you found me, Alfred! I'm so happy...!" Canada could barely get to tell important details as he sunk together into his brothers arms, he just didn't wanted to be alone again, not after this. He felt a hand patting his back and a hand stroking comforting his head as he kept on sobbing.

"It's all right now, Canada, it's all right now. Come on, let's get back to the hut now, the sooner the better, right?" America said softly. Canada looked up from his position at America and he nodded slightly. There was a little pause, when Canada suddenly noticed something.

"Where's England? Was he with you?" America scratched the back of his head.

"No, why would he be that?"

"He went looking for you when you didn't come back. You haven't seen him?"

"No, sorry. Maybe he's back at the hut."

"Hm... okay then..." The two nations got up. They started to walk, when Canada stumbled and almost fell, if it hadn't been for America, who quickly grabbed his sweater.

"Woah, there, watch out!"

"Owowow..." Canada looked down at his ankle. It was throbbing painfully. Why was it suddenly hurting that much? He gasped, when the pain turned more intense. Ice cold fire slicked up at his legs as lightnings, his breath got heaving again. Sweat appeared on his forehead as he squinted his eyes together.

"What's wrong?" Alfred looked at the nation with worried eyes. The pain finally subsided. Canada opened his eyes again.

"Just... my ankle. I must have hurt it even more while fleeing." He answered. He tried to take a step, but it was like his leg was sleeping and it hurt too much to move it. He whimpered slightly.

"Here, give me your arm, I'll give you a shoulder." America said. Canada gratefully accepted and leaned onto the other. They slowly started to walk back. All the way, none of them said anything.

'Strange...' Canada thought. Why wasn't America asking him what that big black thing was, or other details?

"Alfred...?"

"..."

"Alfred?"

"... Huh? Oh, what is it?"

"Are you... okay...?"

"Ah, I'm fine, don't worry. Come on, let's hurry back and see if England is at the hut." Canada nodded and moved his concentration at walking. There was a while or two, but they finally came back.

"Oh, look! He's there!" Canada said and pointed at the front door. America looked up and saw Britain stand up ahead. The Englishman noticed the two countries that were closing up.

"You two! Where the bloody hell have you been? I went looking for you, you American wanker! What were you doing, traveling to other dimensions, or what?!" He said as he walked up to them.

"I just got lost and I kinda got disorientated... so I wandered around for quite a while... and then I found Matthew in the bottom of a pit." America said. England looked at Canada and then looked at his ankle.

"Holy scone, what happened to your leg? Did you twist it? Is it broken?"

"N-no, at least I don't think so. But that mark I got earlier is starting to hurt a lot. It's burning, in fact..."

"Lemme see it." England bowed down and pulled up the leg of Canada's pants to get a look. He flinched. It couldn't be. He squinted his eyes together. He blinked. Then he rubbed his eyes. But it was what it was. How the bloody...

He stood up in a jerk. He did it so suddenly that Canada almost did a jump.

"W-what's wrong? I-is it serious?" He stuttered. He grew even more worried when England didn't even answer. Why was he so... alerted? England kept staring at the ankle. There was no mistaking it. He never thought he would see such a mark again. And it had been a long time since he had last seen one. He slowly moved his eyes and stared at America. He stared him right in the eyes. America noticed and raised a brow.

"What's wrong?"

Silence. Tensed silence. England slowly stepped backwards, still staring at Alfred. The two countries looked at him with an arched brow each. England stopped when he had covered a distance of two meters. More silence. He spread his arms, slowly rose them, a slight bit, his palms facing the opposite way of Canada and America. It was quiet until he broke the silence, his voice serious and deep.

"Matthew. Get over here."

Canada looked at him, even more confused than before.

"What? W-why?" He asked.

"Get over here, I said. Now." the answer was. Canada didn't like the sudden hardness of England's voice. He tried to step over, helped by America, but Britain held up a hand.

"America, stay there. I just want you to stand there. Let Canada go and stand there." There was a moment of silence again. But America did what he was told and let go of Canada. Canada himself was confused, but humped over to England.

"Go behind me, and don't move." Britain said. He still stared intently at America. Canada followed the rather confusing orders and stayed behind Britain. Now, Canada was standing behind England, England was standing a few meters away from America, that just stood plainly, waiting for the next words to come. There was a long pause, no sound. England just stared at America. The more he stared, the more sure he became. Canada continuously shifted his gaze from England to America. The air was somehow thick of tension. Slowly, England began speaking.

"Where's the real America?"

America flinched. Canada arched a brow once again.

"What... are you-" Canada got interrupted by a hand held up in front of his face. He kept his mouth shut. America scratched the back of his head.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. What do you mean?" He asked. England was even more sure than before. This one didn't act as America at all.

"The real Alfred talks differently." England said. Canada froze. He slowly started to reminisce how cautious America had been since he found Canada in the pit. He hadn't said any smart hero-comments, he hadn't said 'dude' or 'like' or 'man' or 'totally', he hadn't even called Canada 'bro' or England for something like 'jerky' or something else. He had talked to him like a normal person. America slowly stopped scratching the back of his head.

"I don't get this. What's wrong?" He said, looking a bit nervous. England ignored the question.

"Answer me, you faker. You've done something to him. Where is he, what have you done to him?" England said. He stared angrily at the person in front of him.

"I seriously have no idea what you are talking about. Can we stop this nonsense and get on with our lives?" America said. Now, Canada could hear what England was talking about. He got a serious look and stepped a little forward.

"Alfred..." He started. America looked at him.

"How did you know I was in that pit? It's impossible to see it in the dark and it's even hidden by vegetation. I never cried for help either. How could you probably find me?" Canada said.

"W-well... I... I almost fell into it before... and... When none of you were at the hut, I thought you probably were there..." Canada noticed the nervousness in America's voice and stepped back.

"You're... not... Alfred..." He slowly said. America looked startled at them. He looked at Canada then on England and back, rapidly. Then his face changed to relaxed. He smiled. He didn't think they would figure out.

"Well... Seems like you know about my species as well, Arthur Kirkland..." He said, smirking disturbingly. England started concentrating his energy into his palms.

"Where is he?" He said. It was more a command than a question. America smiled and shrugged.

"Caught somewhere in the back of his own mind." He said. England frowned and collected more and more in his palms. Canada blinked.

"W-what are you?" He asked softly. America looked at him and smirked a bit more.

"A mountain shadow." Arthur said. Canada looked confused at the Englishman.

"A whatsit?" England groaned at the question.

"A dark matter demon, that can transform into a lot of different big animals. It can also obsess a human body if you're not careful. Which doesn't surprise me why it took America. If it touches you in longer time in it's true form, it gives off an mark like the one on your ankle. If it touches you again, in an obsessed body, the mark will react and become black and painful." England pointed down at Canada's ankle. "When I saw it, I came to think what you said earlier today. About being dragged down into that river."

"Huh? What... What about it?"

Silence. America smirked.

"It was him. That demon, in his true form. He must have been some kind of water creature at that point and dragged you down." America smiled again and shrugged.

"I... you say... that it can transform into other creatures, right?" Canada asked. England nodded. Canada looked up at America.

"S-so it was you too...!" He said. America grinned evilly as he sniggered.

"You just wouldn't stand still. It was so frustrating. But I guess nations are faster than normal humans. You and this guy here I'm obsessing was a real bother to catch. Looks like my efforts were to no good. I don't need this body any more." And before any of the two other nations could react, the eyes of America rolled, showing white. The body winced and twitched, the throat made a weird gargling sound and at last he fell on the ground onto the back.

"A-Alfred!" Canada got stopped by an arm held out by Britain.

"Not yet! He has to get out again!" He said. America jerked and winced on the ground, he was saying weird, disturbing sounds, and suddenly, a black substance bubbled up in his mouth and spilled out. Canada looked at the scene with a racing heart, as a hand, black and thin, covered by the black liquid, slowly almost slipped out of America's mouth. It placed itself on the ground and started to pull itself out. The more it dragged, the more of a body came out. As America kicked and jerked, holding his hands around his own neck, looking like he was going to choke, a shoulder slowly came out, and soon, a whole torso pressed itself out of America's mouth. Whatever a mountain shadow was, it was big as well, and it almost looked like America's mouth was too small to let it get out. In a long, ten, disturbing and terrifying minutes, the body pressed itself out of America's mouth and finally, the end of a long, slippery tail slid out. America coughed and rolled his eyes. He got on all four and hacked and wheezed, trying to catch his breath. The creature that just had dragged itself out of America, stretched and growled. It's body started to roll, part winced and stretched. England stepped backwards, pushing Canada a few steps. He was almost finished collecting energy. He hoped he could make it. Canada terrified looked at the surreal body that transformed in front of him. Second after second, the slime that covered the body became more fur-like, the body became more collected, more muscular. In moments, it was no more a weird, black substance, now, it was a materiel formed body. Canada quickly recognized it. The wolf. And the eye. The red, wild eye. And the deep, rumbling growl. He shivered. Fear flourished in his entire body. England sweated. But he stayed calm. Suddenly, he pushed with a quick movement Canada backwards.

"_Take this!"_

A sparkle twitched right at the red eye. Milliseconds later, the spark turned into a huge fireball. A roar cut through the night air, the tension exploded. England was thrown back, into Canada. America rolled sideways and bumped his back into the wall of the hut and groaned of pain. Canada got himself up and looked at the direction of the demon. It's fur was burned off several places, even meat had been burned off, leaving white bones and dried meat left. A terrible smell filled the air, together with the howls of pain from the demon. Canada looked down at England. He was stumbling getting up and he was heaving for breath.

"Th-that should slow it d-down. Get Alfred and let's get out of here!" He said. Canada instantly ran towards his brother, ignoring the extreme pain in his ankle. He grabbed America's shoulder and shook it.

"Alfred! Are you there?!" He said.

"Mhummuhm... Mmmatthew...?"" America responded. He looked up. His sight was slightly blurred of pain. He widened his eyes and smiled softly as he looked at someone he knew. Someone he knew. Finally. He coughed out some more slime.

"C-come on, we need to get out of here!" Canada shook harder in America's shoulder, hoping he would snap out of it.

"I-I'm... coming..." Slowly and unsteady, the western country got up, supporting himself on to Canada.

"Hurry, you two, we haven't got the rest of this century!" England yelled, as he ran over to the two brothers. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?" He cupped America's jaw and looked into his half-closed eyes. America blinked confused with his eyes. He coughed up more slime and winced. He dried his mouth and nodded. England nodded and let go if him and pushed both him and Canada forward, silently telling them to go and fast. He knew that the demon would get up fast so they had to go now. Canada glanced backwards. He only caught a glimpse of the big, black, wincing creature, but he knew it would be after them soon. He felt it.

"Come on, go over there, I'll try to use my magic to transport us a little farther away!" England said. Canada imminently started to walk faster, trying to get America to do the same as well. He could feel the fear creep up against his spine. He looked back again, when they were starting to get a little away. The demon was getting up and the burned wounds were starting to heal again.

"A-Arthur...!" He quickly pointed behind the nation, but England didn't even look, he just kept pushing the two others.

"I know, go, go, go!" They only got to the bushes and trees that were a little further down the hill. Canada almost tripped over the headless corpse of the deer he had seen earlier. England saw it, but ignored it. He just kept on nudging America and Canada further into the vegetation. Canada almost jumped when England grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

"W-w-what are we doing, shouldn't we get away?" He asked. He talked fast and soft, he was panicking. He was trying to keep his breath relaxed and calm, but his heart was racing and he was already shivering of fear.

"Just stand there. I know what I'm doing." Was the simple answer. Canada was stepping a little, clearly ready to run away if he saw anything that would threat his life. He glanced over to England while looking around after the demon. Why was England just standing there? They were supposed to run, now!

A roar crashed through the air and hit Canada right in the face. Everything inside him screamed "Run". But his legs had frozen into the ground. The trees behind England snapped like twigs, revealing the Shadow. The eyes were wild and red, hungry. Another roar. Claws cut through the air.

And hit England.

Blood.

Red.

White.

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**All right, this is where I haven't written anymore. (Actually, I have, but it was for the next chapter...)**

**Oh, I feel so exited, I just can't wait to write the rest and creep you out with my sick and twisted fantasy! *Cackle***

**Anyway, review, I'd really appreciate that!**

**And...**

**I'm out.**


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